Sunday, 13 September 2009

The blue spring wind drifted the plum boughs up to the sun, an offering. In that moment you were one with the universe, even if five months gone from it, suggested the cricket song. A mourning dove cooed into the blue-powdered white thought. A set of wind chimes gently dinged somewhere not too far off. The alert brown alleycat's ears twitched like anxious pans, fanning the air to pick up and sort out the confusing soundmix the wind carried. Somewhere, very faintly, briefly in the distance, when in an instant of mercy traffic and all the other racket stopped, a tinny radio signal grew rich with shoals of orderly baroque violins.

Usually "wind" is shown to take things away from us, but here, it serves to bring everything together, even the one lost, a moment stitched in air. Building to that fullness "rich with shoals" reminds me sound travels in waves; the unsaid ebb to follow is carried inside that tidal pull...which makes that instant of mercy all the sweeter.

TcGreat title, it seems from a jazz song sang by sinatra or one of those boys. Very nice poem indeed. I can feelthings while I read it (although I do not know if I am interpreting it as you did), which can transport me to another place,another life that I used to have in a distant land.Be well TC

Yes, I'll take any reassurance, even distant, even tinny, whatever relieves the leaden facts of life just a bit... (and I must say a word from you will always qualify, distant perforce maybe, yet neither tinny nor leaden ever).

Mariana,

We're always looking for those transports aren't we, another time, another place, another land to get lost in, if only for a little while.